Back To The Basics
by simplytrop
Summary: When England resolves to go wilderness camping, his plans take a turn when a certain American decides to interfere.


**Back To The Basics**

**Note:** This is old. Really old. Old as balls. **And there was a reason I never posted it, I am just saying.** But since it is Chimelon's bday and she wanted this fic posted instead of a Quid Pro Quo update, you can blame her and her bad taste. Also she came up with the title, and the summary, and the cover picture. Also she's going to draw **m-rated doujinshi that will be posted on her tumblr** so you guys should totally go check it (chimelon at tumblr). Happy bday, Chim!

* * *

England had a plan. It had seemed like a pretty good plan when he came up with it. Summer was drawing to an end, and England had been feeling worse than usual this year after America's obnoxious July 4th party. That was why he'd decided that what he needed to do was to go exploring again.

Back in the days when he'd been sailing the seas and taking over lands wherever he went, he'd felt at the top of his prime. Nowadays, he generally felt tired and frustrated, and if a nation's blood pressure could rise, he was sure his was going through the roof with frustration after every meeting he had with the other countries. So England had figured that what he needed was a good pick-me-up in the form of some wilderness and good old-fashioned living off the land.

Which was why he was currently staring at a small clearing in the middle-of-nowhere Alaska, holding the parts of a disassembled tent in his hands, and trying to convince himself that this was not the worst idea he'd ever had in his couple thousand years of life.

"Why bloody Alaska?" England cursed, looking up at the sun and then back down to his watch. It was three in the afternoon. He had a couple hours of sunlight before he had to fend off the penguins or whatever it was America kept in Alaska. Why the bloody hell did he even _have_ a state all the way up here?

"I could have gone to Antarctica or Australia or Russia…" England sighed. Except that it was actually impossible for even a nation to try and make it on his own in Antarctica. He would rather risk the wildlife in Alaska any day over the wildlife in Australia. And Russia…well, there was no way he was ever going to live in Russia if he had any say in the matter. But even if the logic was sound, it didn't mean coming to America was a good decision either.

England was usually a pretty cautious nation. He didn't go around impulsively doing things – at least, not anymore – and at this point, he could admit that this might not be the best plan he'd ever come up with. He had a couple hundred quid worth of camping supplies, a piece of land he'd bought, and nothing but wilderness all around him. The nearest town was five miles away, which was a lot farther than it had sounded before he'd left his rented car in Juneau and hiked his way up with all his equipment. And now, he was dying for a cup of tea.

England had brought tea, of course, and there was supposed to be a well around here he could get his water from, or so the real estate agent had said when he sold England the land. Unfortunately, the only cooking utensil England had thought to bring was a pan, which was utterly useless when it came to brewing tea.

"Buck up, old chap," England told himself. He could do this. And he'd feel a thousand times younger once he had.

Except that once he'd talked himself out of needing tea right away and setting up his tent, the tent refused to cooperate. The instructions made no sense, the parts didn't fit together, and just when he got one end of it up, the other end would collapse again. By the time he'd finally managed to bully the tent into more or less the shape it was supposed to be in, the sun had already set, and he was sweating and sticky under his sweater.

England stretched, rolling his shoulders, as he surveyed his campsite. He had a small pile of supplies, and a few stones he'd managed to collect though he'd had no time to set up a firepit. The tent was a sad, saggy shadow of what the catalogue had promised. And just doing all this had exhausted England and he was ready to sleep right where he stood.

"It's all right, you'll get back into practice," England told himself. At least he'd managed to get the tent up before the sun set which was something. Hundreds of years of wilderness battling and exploring and sailing the seas did not go away just because of a few decades of comfortable modern living. He'd get back in his stride soon enough.

England managed to unfurl the sleeping bag he'd bought inside the tent with the light of the moon outside and his flashlight. He was asleep before he'd even finished crawling in.

* * *

England woke when he heard the shout, and then sat up so fast, his head hit the sagging top of his tent, which sent the whole thing collapsing on him. Even though it was already morning judging by the light, but England did not like waking up confused and tangled up in a tent. He wasn't even sure how many expletives he'd let out before he finally managed to crawl out of the collapsed door flap.

He found himself staring at a pair of familiar leather boots, which belonged to an equally familiar pair of legs, chest, and face.

America raised an eyebrow. "Why exactly are you…camping…in Alaska?" he asked.

England did not like that tone of voice. "It's none of your business," he snapped, brushing himself off as he got to his feet. "Why on earth did you wake me like that?" he demanded. If he'd started regretting his decision yesterday, it was a thousand times worse this morning when all he wanted to do was go to a real bathroom to brush his teeth and take a shower.

"I didn't know you were asleep. It's nearly eleven now," America said and shrugged. He looked vaguely guarded, and England realized why.

"Oh for heaven's sake, I'm just taking a vacation," he said. "You can go back to New York or wherever you were," he told America. He couldn't deny that maybe, in one tiny corner of his mind, he had been hoping that since he was going to Alaska, he might accidentally or no-so-accidentally bump into America.

"What are you really planning to do in Alaska?" America said. "You're not just here for vacation."

England was tired and grumpy, and his arms and back still ached. "What's wrong with a vacation? Other nations come visit you all the time. Just because I didn't go visit _you_, there's nothing wrong with me spending a few weeks in Alaska if I want," he said and dragged his camper's backpack out of the collapsed tent. Fuck, he really wanted a change of clothes, but he hadn't brought any. He'd barely managed to fit all his supplies in as was.

"Yeah, but other nations don't buy land," America said. "You're not trying to set up a vacation home or something, are you?"

England rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to – to colonize Alaska or whatever you think I'm trying to do. I don't even like it here much," he told America.

America only looked more sceptical. "So why are you here?"

England let out a sigh. America wasn't going to leave him alone unless he told the truth. "It's been awhile since I've been stimulated—"

America went an interesting shade of red.

"Not that way, you bloody idiot!" England snapped, blushing. "I just mean, I wanted to… to build something from the ground up again."

"You want to go wilderness exploring?" America said in such a tone of disbelief that England felt rather offended.

"I built myself from ground up too," he said. "I was more powerful of an empire in my time than you'll ever be."

America was grinning again even though he still looked wary. "So you got nostalgic and decided to come to Alaska to fail at camping and chop down a couple of trees?" he asked.

"Piss off," England said, and pushed past America to get the map out from his backpack. It had been awhile since he used a compass, and even though he'd made the real estate agent circle exactly where England's clearing was and where that well was supposed to be, it still took longer than he liked to figure out where it was. "I'm going to look for the well so you can bugger off," he said.

America made no move to leave, though, only following England along as he hunted for the well. He looked suspiciously amused when England ended up passing by the well two times in his search before he realized the small clump of stones was the well he was looking for.

"This… is the well…?" England said, staring in disbelief and disappointment at the pathetic, muddy little ring. There wasn't even a bucket left anymore and the whole thing looked rotten and more or less unusable.

America actually burst out laughing. "Just go back to London, old man. You're never going to survive out here alone."

England turned and glared at him. "I've done it before and I can do it again," he snapped.

"Sure, sure," America said. "Come on, I'll get you an apartment in town if you want to stay up here so much," he said.

"I am _going_ to stay up _here_," England snapped.

"You're going to last five seconds," America said easily. "How are you going to get your tea?"

Not having tea was really not helping England's temper.

"Come on, I'll even rent you a hotel room at a discount, and you can go… fishing or whatever it is you want to do up here," America said.

"I said I'm staying up here, you idiot," England snapped because even if he had been very briefly considering giving up this entire endeavour, he certainly wasn't going to now that America clearly thought he couldn't tough it out.

America looked even more amused. "Fine. Do what you want," he said. "But don't try taking over any part of me or you're going straight back to the UK," he told England.

England glared at him as America went whistling back to the huge truck he'd driven up in. America had warm clothes, easy transportation, and probably a lovely apartment in town to go back to and all the food and hot tea he wanted. Hah, _who_ was the one who was too comfortable?

* * *

America tapped on his steering wheel as he drove in to town. He'd panicked when he heard England had run off from the UK and bought a piece of land in Alaska for a reason that not even England's boss was clear about.

Of course America's first thought had been that this had better not be some bizarre plan of England's to take over America piece-by-piece of real estate. So America had taken his own plane directly from D.C. into Juneau. And after having talked to England, the only thing America knew was that he did not believe a word England was claiming about wilderness exploring. Judging by the state of that campsite, America gave it an afternoon before England came crawling into town for a cup of tea.

Which was why America had decided to stay in Alaska for as long as it took England to leave. He was not about to let England run around unsupervised with a piece of American real estate under his human name.

So America drove in to the nearest restaurant in town and bought take-out burgers and a thermos of hot tea, and then drove all the way back up to England's campsite.

England appeared to be setting up some sort of fire pit next to his tent. America realized with a sigh, that England had figured out there was a stream just a little beyond the well because he had a pail of water sitting beside the fire pit.

America parked the car and got the food and tea with a vague plan to entice England into going back to the comfort of suburbia London.

England looked up and glared at America. "What are you doing back here?" he said as soon as America got out of the car.

"It _is_ my country," America said.

"I own this land."

"So?" America said and held up his take-out bag and thermos. "Want lunch?" he asked.

England's stomach let out a grumble. Either England hadn't brought much up to eat, or else he hadn't gotten around to cooking anything yet by the looks of his fire pit.

"I'm not leaving just because you have food," England said.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," America said and handed him the take-out bag before sitting down next to him.

"Burgers," England said, opening the bag. "Eating fast food all the time is bad for you."

"Eating _your_ food all the time is worse," America answered and helped himself to one of the burgers.

"My food is fine!" England said.

Then America passed him the thermos of tea, and England let out the loudest sigh of pleasure America had ever heard. He couldn't decide if it was hilarious or cute or just downright embarrassing that a thermos of tea could bring one person so much joy.

"So how long exactly do you plan to stay here?" America asked.

"I took a couple of weeks off. The next conference isn't until December," England said.

"It's barely September now. You're going to stay for three months?" America asked. That was a lot longer than _America_ wanted to stay in Alaska – not that he didn't like Alaska, but he had important things to do and another forty-nine states to tend to.

He was surprised England had so much time to take off for himself. As head of the UK, England didn't exactly have a relaxing life.

"I told you, I arranged things," England said, and sighed. "Anyway, I have my mobile. I can take care of business through calls, and if anything really important happens, I can go into town for the Internet," he said.

"So you really want to camp for three months?" America asked incredulously. "You don't even have a car."

"I've done it before," England said, and America had seen that look on England's face enough times to know he wasn't going to change his mind.

America gave up trying to reason with England for now. All nations were stubborn, but England was one of the most stubborn ones America knew. It had been nearly three hundred years and England still cried about the Revolution. And anyways, if this morning was anything to go by, England wasn't going to last long up here even without America's help.

"So what are you going to do? Start chopping down trees or something? Do you even have an axe?" America asked.

"I need to go back to town to get some supplies," England admitted. "I need a pot, more clothes, the axe, a knife, a couple of other things…"

America really couldn't resist teasing England a little. "So you're going to walk five miles down and back with everything?"

England glared at him even though he had clearly been eyeing America's truck.

Under any other circumstance, America would have just jabbed at England until he snapped and insisted on walking there and back out of sheer stubbornness, but England was still looking rumpled and grouchy, and America hadn't even known England's hair could actually be messier than it usually was.

"Want a ride in to town?" America offered even though it was a horrible idea because it was just encouraging England to stay.

"I don't want to of course, but it'll save time," England said, sounding reluctant as though he were the one doing America a favour.

America rolled his eyes and let England clean up the remains of their lunch before following him to the truck.

In town, he dropped England off at the local supplies shop and then went to the real estate office while he waited. The first thing he did was ask if there were any properties available around the one England had bought. An hour later, America was walking out of the place with a three month rent agreement on a hunting lodge half a mile away from England's property.

Then he went around the city, getting things set up so he could work from Juneau for the time being. At least England had chosen to stay right outside Alaska's state capital so it wasn't the most inconvenient place to work from.

England was still in the supply shop, looking at different models of axes, when America found him, but he grabbed one as soon as he saw America. England was carrying a loaded basket with the axe, pans, utensils, and even a hunter's rifle and ammunition.

"You're going to carry all of that for five miles?" America raised an eyebrow.

England flushed. "I can do it," he said even though he was stupidly easy to read, and clearly he'd been hoping that America would offer to drive him back up too. In fact, America was willing to bet that was why he hadn't bought anything yet. England had probably been waiting to see if America would offer him a ride before he calculated how much he could actually manage to carry back.

America was tempted to make England suffer his own bad decisions, but he'd seen the state of England's camp, and even if England was being extremely inconvenient, he didn't want England to freeze or starve to death because he didn't have the supplies he needed. "Well, I'm going to go see my lodge so I can drop you off if you're not too against using a car in your wilderness exploration," America said.

England frowned. "You have a lodge here?" he asked.

"It's not exactly mine," America said. "I stay there sometimes when I come up here though," he lied. England would never let him hear the end of it if he found out America had rented a place just to keep track of him.

"Don't you stay in the city when you're in Alaska?" England said, which was true for nearly all the states. America had a house or owned an apartment in every state capital – mostly for convenience so he'd always have a place to stay when he was there. In a couple of bigger states, America would have more than one house. In Alaska, he actually went to Anchorage more than Juneau, and he had a fairly nice house in the suburbs there. In Juneau, he had an apartment in the city center, but that was more than five miles away from England's camp. America wanted to keep a closer eye on England without getting him all riled up about America going to check on him all the time.

"Hey, Alaska is all about wilderness," America said. "And I can have more than one living place you know. This _is_ my country."

England rolled his eyes as he paid for his purchases, and because America, even though he didn't want to encourage England, also couldn't help being a hero, he helped England carry all his things to the truck and drove him back up to the campsite.

"So where exactly is your lodge?" England asked when America dropped him off again.

"Back down your driveway and further up the road that way," America answered, pointing it out.

England frowned. "So it's close?" he asked.

"Close enough," America answered. "Come over if you decide to stop camping," he told England, which he knew was enough of an invitation that England would come once he gave up trying to rough it.

England got out of the truck, unloading armfuls of his new things and dumping them around his tent in a sprawled mess. America almost felt bad for how terrible it all looked with the collapsed tent and pathetic little fire pit. England spent most of his free time embroidering in front of a fire or sitting in an overstuffed armchair with a good book. America gave it a week before England gave up.

America left England, still cursing at his tent, to check out his new lodge. He didn't think England could get in too much trouble for the rest of the night now that he had more supplies and clothes, and probably wasn't going to get eaten by a bear if he had a rifle now.

When America drove up the driveway to his lodge, he was more pleased than he'd expected to see a luxurious hunting lodge that was clearly meant for a comfortable vacation for a businessman with property. It was probably only being rented now because practical Americans knew how to make money. The whole place was made of beautiful dark wood, and the interior was decorated, sparse and homely, with masculine pieces of furniture.

Both electricity and water were already up and running, so America spent the rest of his afternoon packing things up from his apartment and moving them into the lodge. The first thing he set up was the Internet for his computer. Then he hooked up his video game system and television – he predicted a lot of boredom if he was going to spend three months stuck outside Juneau.

Halfway through putting away his clothes, he got hungry so then he went to unload the food he'd bought at the grocery, and grilled himself a couple of steaks. After that, it was only natural that he settle down to play a couple of video games to unwind before he began working tomorrow.

All in all, America was in a state of messy relaxation when the knock came on his door. He paused his video game and opened the door.

A soaked and shivering England was standing bedraggled at his doorstep. He looked even worse than he'd been that morning, and he sneezed as America stared open-mouthed at him.

"Are you going to let me in or what?" England said, grumpy, and America stepped to one side, letting England drip in.

"What happened to you?" America asked. He'd only left him alone for a few hours.

England had brought his backpack with him, which he dropped to the ground as soon as he walked in. He sneezed again, and he looked so much like a disgruntled cat that America gave up for the time being and shoved him towards the bathroom.

"Nevermind, go take a shower first and then tell me how you failed at camping," he said.

England looked like he wanted to protest but the thought of a shower was clearly too much, and a moment later, America heard the water running in the bathroom.

He rolled his eyes. For someone his age, England really had to stop acting like a lunatic and running off on mad whims like this when he clearly couldn't handle wilderness anymore.

America was a few minutes into his video game when England came back out again. He was dressed only in a towel and looked vaguely sheepish when America saw him.

"I, uh, I forgot my clothes," England explained and went to his backpack to start pulling out clothes.

America very much did not expect England to drop his towel and dress right in front of him. England's back was turned, and he probably didn't know that apparently his naked ass was a magnet to America's eyes. Admittedly, America thought he'd done a very good job of denying all possible attraction he had to England because he really could not afford to have any sort of attraction to his former brother.

Unfortunately, sometimes he was horribly tempted like when England looked hurt and disappointed, because no one would eat the scones he'd baked for the world conferences. Then America would claim to be starving and eat some, and it would be worth it when England blushed with badly hidden happiness. But how the hell did he expect to keep his self-control in place when England's legs were right there in front of him.

"What?" England asked when he noticed America staring. It was a good thing that this was the guy who, in modern times now, marched around naked in his house when he didn't have to go out.

"So what happened?" America said, trying to sound like he hadn't just been staring at certain parts of England's anatomy.

England went an interesting shade of red. "Uh… I was talking to some of the fairies and um…slipped," he said after a moment.

America rolled his eyes. He'd never understand England and his imaginary friends. "You are so weird."

"And it was dark so I couldn't bathe in the stream…" England trailed off. "I'll, uh, I'll go now," he said. "Thank you for the shower." He started pulling on his damp jacket again.

America managed to wait until England had already donned his backpack, before he finally snapped. "Just stay here tonight," he said.

England paused halfway to the door. "What?"

"It's already dark out there," America said. "This isn't the city."

England looked surprised and then a pleased smile came to his face. "Are you worried about me?"

It was America's turn to turn red because that hadn't even occurred to him. "Of course not!" he said. "I just mean, what if you do something stupid and accidentally kill yourself? I'm not going to be responsible for the death of the UK."

England rolled his eyes. "I've been a nation far long than you have. I think I can survive a half mile walk back," he told America and shut the door behind him.

"Your loss!" America shouted, but England was already gone.

America unpaused his video game again and this time, he managed to last all of three minutes before he grabbed his coat and keys and hurried out after England.

With the truck, it took only a minute to catch up to England on the driveway and England looked a combination of relieved, annoyed, and surprised when America pulled up next to him. "I'll give you a ride back," America told him through the window.

"I told you I can get back myself," England said, but America still breathed a sigh of relief when England got into the truck next to him.

"Yeah and I'd just think about how you slipped and drowned yourself all night long," America said.

England crossed his arms. "I told you that was an accident," he said.

"Exactly. You're bad enough on a normal basis without being in the middle of the woods," America said. "This is Alaska—not your UK," he told England who rolled his eyes.

"I've been exploring wilderness a lot longer than you have," England said.

"And you've been living up the comfortable life for a lot longer too," America pointed out. "When you were luxuriating in your palaces in London, I was still exploring the rest of my continent."

"The continent isn't all yours," England said dryly.

"Whatever," America said when he dropped England off at his campsite. England had apparently re-erected the tent, but it still looked sad and lonely and small in the middle of the clearing. America really did not like the idea of leaving England all by himself out here.

"Good night," England said when he got out of the car.

"Yeah, whatever. Just don't kill yourself," America told him.

England snorted and America waited until after he'd crawled into the tent to leave.

* * *

England hated to admit it, but he was having trouble sleeping. Not all that long ago, he had been camping in military issue tents right alongside his men. But of course with war, he'd never been able to sleep well, so he supposed that really wasn't so much his inability to sleep as it was the reasons he couldn't.

It was nearly autumn now, and it had cooled down at night so even though England was zipped into two layers of sleeping bags, his toes were still freezing. He could hear everything that went on in the woods around him too, and while England was fairly certain he could handle anything out there, the quiet rustle and snap of branches were driving him insane. When he had four walls and a ceiling around him and he could sleep with a good amount of certainty that nothing was going to attack him out of the blue. Out here, he had to stay aware of his surroundings in case anything was stupid enough to try attacking him, which, in turn, made it impossible for him to sleep.

It helped knowing that America was less than a mile away, but England would be bollocksed before he went to him for help. Asking for the shower once was already bad enough when the fairies had tricked him into falling in the stream. He'd been reluctant to ask for help then, but catching pneumonia would put England's economy into recession and make it all but impossible for him to stay out here for three months.

Of course thinking about America just made England even less sleepy because then all he could think about was how America had that wonderful lodge with its running water and safe, sturdy walls, and real toilets, and electricity, and _tea_. It took a lot of willpower not to go running right back up there. America was right about that even if England was never going to admit it—he was used to comfortable living and he liked his well-earned luxuries.

"Oh go to sleep, old chap. You'll get used to it soon enough," England said to himself and burrowed down deeper, pulling the sleeping bag over his cold nose and willing himself to sleep.

And even though England thought he'd stay awake all night, he must have been more tired than he'd thought because the next thing he knew, America's cheerful voice was waking him again. When England finally figured out which way in the sleeping bag was out, he saw that America was in the process of unzipping his tent and letting in the bright sunlight.

"Rise and shine, old man," America said, entirely too brightly for England to deal with when he just got up. He'd never understand how America had so much energy all of the time, but he suspected all the calorie intake and caffeine was at least partially to blame.

"What are you doing here?" England muttered, knuckling his eyes as he tried to wake up a little more.

"Just came to see if you want to come to Juneau with me," America said cheerfully, squatting just outside of England's tent and letting in even more cold air as England crawled out of his sleeping bags and tried to get dressed as fast as possible in the chilly air, forgoing neatness for speed at the moment. "I gotta go work. So, want to come?" he asked.

England shook his head. "I told you, I'm here to—"

"Camp and build your own house or whatever here," America finished, sounding entirely too amused. "All right then. I probably won't get back until six or seven," he said. "Are you sure you don't want to stay at my lodge instead?" he asked after a moment.

England didn't even have to change his expression to be glaring at America.

"Fine, fine, but if you change your mind…" America said and turned with another wave toward the truck that England saw was parked there.

The sputter of the engine died away a few moments later, but since England was already awake, he got out of his tent. First things first—tea.

England made up a fire which took a lot longer now than it used to, and then looked around the clearing. The air was fresh and cold, and England did feel a bit better as he breathed the spicy fresh scent of pine and greenery that you could never get in the big cities. After he had his tea, he felt even better even if it didn't taste quite right without a teapot and made over a campfire like this. America, workaholic that he was, had woken England up at 6 and knowing America, he probably thought that was late. It was an eternal mystery why America was always late when he was actually surprisingly diligent when it came to work.

England looked around. Well, he had an axe now. It was possible to build a hut with just one man, but it was very difficult without help. Before he worried about that, though, he had to start chopping down the trees, and it had been a very long time since England had done any physical labour.

Either he really was getting old or this was a lot harder than England remembered because he was aching all over by the time an hour passed. When noon came around, he couldn't remember a time his arms had been this sore before.

That was when England realized that while he'd remembered the tea, he'd forgotten to buy more food supplies like he'd meant to. He had one pathetic can of spam left from last night's dinner and that was it. While England did intend to do his own hunting and trapping eventually, it was lunchtime now and there was still the house to think of which England wanted up before the nights got any colder. It wasn't entirely unreasonable, then, to rely on civilization just a little bit, he told himself. After all, his main goal in the wilderness was just to get fit and feel young again, and England would definitely be feeling that with all the extra exercise.

Convinced, England took care of his campsite and then got his backpack and started the hike back in to town.

He might have stopped in a restaurant for lunch instead of picking up the supplies and heading straight back, but only because it was practical—after all, there was no point in bringing up supplies he was going to immediately eat. Then he spent the rest of the afternoon trimming the branches off of the trees he'd felled.

England had only half-been expecting America to come back when he heard the truck at half past six, and a few moments later, it came into sight and America jumped out of it.

"You didn't get too much done," was the first thing America said.

England flushed up to the roots of his hair. "I forgot to buy food yesterday. So I, so I had to go back to down, you git!" he snapped. "And I got plenty done! It's not that easy with one person."

America grinned. "Sure, sure," he said. "And that's your dinner?" he asked, looking at the pot of mixed beans and spam that England had made for dinner. It was starting to smoke and go alarmingly black.

"Shit! You made me burn it," England cursed as he tried to salvage what was left of his dinner. He managed to scrape out a plateful of mushy charred food but now the pot would need scrubbing too, and he'd forgotten to buy a sponge.

America laughed. "Hey, don't blame me. You do that even with no one around," he said. "Want to come up to mine? I got some fish steaks and potatoes I'm gonna cook. Ice cream too," he said and threw the sinker. "You could take a hot shower if you want. Man, that water in the stream's got to be freezing."

It wasn't like England had been waiting for an invitation from America, but living in the wilderness was a lot tougher than he remembered and even back when he'd been doing this every day, there had usually been other people around to help him.

"It would be a lot faster to cook at your place," England said reluctantly. "I just don't want to still be cooking out here when it's already dark."

America was grinning so England couldn't tell if he'd believed him, but he got in the car all the same. America really did have fish in a cooler in back so fresh they hadn't even been gutted or scaled yet.

England turned to look at him suspiciously. "Did you go fishing today?"

America grinned. "Yep," he said. "Fishing's great out here and I always love deep-sea fishing. Stuff here's not what I caught though. Those were way too big to bring back."

England exhaled and then grabbed the cooler from America and helped himself to America's knife rack. "I thought you were working today," he said as he sliced open the bellies of the fish and gutted them. Well, if they were going to be eating dinner, England could at least cook for America. It had been awhile since England had dealt with freshly caught fish, but at least this was something he had thrived off of for as long as he could remember, being an island nation, and England could say with certainty that he was very good at it indeed.

"I was. I had a meeting with some of the CEOs up here," America said happily. "It was awesome! One of them says he has a sled team so we could go dog sledding next time. You definitely chose the right place to go wilderness camping," he told England, so obvious proud of his own land it was endearing if a bit obnoxious.

"You shouldn't be mixing work and play," England said as he began cleaning the fish. "Go take a shower. You stink of fish."

"I'll leave you to it," America agreed and went off for the shower.

England worked fast so he was already frying up fresh fish and chips by the time America came out again.

"What're you making?" America asked, leaning over England's shoulder to watch as he dropped pieces of filleted fish into the batter and then oil. It had been a long time since America watched England cook. He'd only really ever done it when he was still a colony and couldn't even cook for himself. Back then, England had always told him it was dangerous and to get out of the kitchen because he was going to hurt himself. Now, America was much bigger, and this close, England could feel the subtle move of his clothes against his own and smell the fresh soap from America's skin even through the smell of frying fish.

"Fish 'n chips. Now back off," England said, elbowing America. Sometimes England wondered if America knew his effect on England and did this to him on purpose. Then he remembered that America was basically a kid in an adult's body and if hewas messing with England on purpose, he probably just liked to get England all flustered because he thought it was funny.

"Hah! You _do_ like fried stuff even though you're always nagging at me," America crowed, way too close to England's ear, but when England turned to yell at him, America's face was right there and his eyes were huge and blue and way too close.

England felt his face going red even as he backed up and very nearly scalded America with a ladle of hot oil. "I said stay out of the way! Do you want to get burned, you great sodding idiot?" England said.

"Okay, okay," America said.

"Go set the table. It'll be done soon," England told him.

America let out an exaggerated sigh but did as he was told.

"Are you really going to stay here for three months?" America asked as England finished up.

"Yes," England said. He was tired of camping out already, but he even more tired of America doubting his ability to do so.

"Are you sure you don't want to just live in a hotel or here with me?" America asked.

"No!" England snapped. "I told you I can handle it."

"Oh come on, you're trying to build a house all by yourself. Even back in the settler days, you can't get a very good one up with just one person," America said as he made room so England could put down the food.

He didn't let up even when they started eating though.

"This stuff needs more flavouring," America said as he dug into the fish and chips and then sprinted to the kitchen to come back with half of his spice cabinet and salt which he doused all their food in liberally. "Not as good as my chemical flavouring, but beggars can't be choosers," he said cheerfully because America was really the only person in the world who would be proud of chemical flavouring.

England was never going to tell America that with his flavouring, the fish and chips really did taste better.

"You know it's going to start getting really cold here," America told England as they ate. "You really don't want to be out there in just a tent or some flimsy hut."

"I've dealt with it before," England said.

"If you get frostbite and lose a piece of Dover or Mousehole or whatever your coast villages are called, don't come complaining to me," America said.

England blinked. "Are you worried about me?" he finally asked because clearly America didn't need to be in Alaska and even if he did, he had an apartment in town. But instead, he was staying at a lodge that was half a mile away from England's land, and America had been offering to let England stay at his apartment or lodge ever since England got there. England couldn't help feeling a little pleased at the thought. "You're worried, aren't you?"

"I am not!" America said too quickly and too loudly for it not to be at least a little true. America poked at one of the chips with a fork.

It was sweet but horrible because it gave England hope that he really should have gotten over ages ago. America hadn't loved him enough to stay with him all those years ago when he was a colony. England supposed that America did care about him to a certain degree – they were close allies after all – but America never even bothered hiding what he thought of England's food and his culture and what he wore or acted like. England might still be in pathetic, unrequited love, but he certainly wasn't stupid enough to hope that America would ever think of him in that way. Still, the thought of America worrying about him made England feel warm inside.

They didn't talk about England staying with America any more, and after England borrowed America's shower again, America drove him back to the camp.

The drive only took a few minutes, but after the food and the shower, England was beginning to debate the merits of taking America up on his offer. He didn't look forward to spending another cold night in his tent on the hard ground, but he even less wanted to give up and have America rub it in for the rest of their lives.

Which was when they drove up to England's clearing and saw the bears.

* * *

A mother bear and two fat bear cubs were nosing around England's camp.

England blinked and squinted but they were still there. One of the cubs batted at England's tent and letting out a hoarse squeal when it collapsed under its paw. The mother bear had taken to rummaging through England's cooler. He had bought a bear-proof cooler, but since he didn't have much perishable food, he hadn't set it up yet. Hell, England hadn't really thought there would be any bears around here at all. At most, he'd assumed he might see some deer, a moose or two, maybe rabbits or something—not three bears.

The other bear cub was batting at England's rifle and England felt like an idiot for not having taken that with him when he went off with America, but also rather relieved that it was unloaded because who knew what could happen with a bear playing with it.

By the time he got over his shock enough to look over at America, he saw America was wearing more or less an identical stunned expression.

"Right. We're going back to my place," America said. "You are not allowed to live here until you have a sturdy house up that is completely bear proof."

He flicked the lights on and off in the truck, and the three bears definitely paid attention to that.

A moment all three bears had disappeared back into the surrounding woods, and along with them, all of England's desires to stay in that tent.

"Okay. Let's get your stuff and then we're leaving," America said and parked the car.

It didn't take long to gather up what was salvageable from England's camp, and then England was hugging his torn daypack to his chest as America drove them back to the lodge.

"You have bears up here?" England demanded as soon as they got into the warm and brightly lit house. "Why didn't you warn me?"

"Of course I have bears," America said. "Haven't you seen that polar bear Canada brings with him everywhere he goes?"

England raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Whatever," America said. "You're staying here until you have a proper house or I'll deport you right back to the UK now."

England wanted to argue with that on principle, but America actually looked pale and shaken. "I didn't know you were scared of bears," England said, looking sadly at the remains of the tea that the bears had eaten. He had no choice but to start brewing America's coffee instead.

"I'm not," America said.

"Of course," England said indulgently.

"I'm really not, but if you were alone…" America said.

England felt his hopes jump in spite of himself. "I've dealt with far worse than a couple of bears before, America," he said. He had no doubt he could handle himself if it came down to it because England had been through all sorts of hardships when he was younger – you didn't get to be an empire without being tough after all – but it was incredibly sweet that America really _was_ worried about him.

"I don't care what you have or haven't done, you're getting a proper house before you're allowed to stay out there," America said.

"I—"

"If you really want to so much, I'll even get people to help you—"

"You know the whole point of this is—"

"Fine then I'll help, okay? Just one more person isn't going to make a difference, right?" America asked. He actually sounded pretty desperate which was incredibly rare for him. America was normally completely confident even in his worst plans.

"All right. Fine," England said. "But I want it up as soon as possible."

"And until then you'll stay here?" America asked.

England sighed and he hoped he didn't sound as relieved as he felt because staying with America meant hot showers and a real stove and a heater and civilization. "Yes," he said.

* * *

end of pt1/3 or something idk but probably not to be continued until chim posts the nsfws :)


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